Breaking
by Time Lady Zelie
Summary: Bottles and boundaries get broken when Fred and George have a fiesta. Sorry for crap title/summary.


_Well, now that is a really big flower. What's it doing so close to my face? Merlin, my head hurts…_Fred rolled off the small floral printed couch and onto the party-debris covered floor of the hotel room he appeared to have crashed in sometime last night. Mumbling a new round of curses and profanities he covered his eyes with his hands in an effort to shield them from the glaring sunlight coming in from the wide open window of the room. _Whoever the hell thought having _that _open needs a Puking Pastille with their oatmeal…wait. Am I…no. I don't know why I would be…_He smoothed one hand over his bare chest, realizing that he was wearing a significantly smaller amount of clothing than he had been when last he had checked. He groaned and tried to find something to grip onto to lever himself up off the floor so he could begin to try to make some sense out of where he was, why he was there, and additionally why he was not wearing anything but…a Speedo, it would appear. Rather suddenly he became aware that he was not alone in this hotel room full of destruction, as he could hear the shower in the next room running and hear someone whistling. The door to the bathroom was, for the moment, closed and locked, so instead of worrying about who was on the other side of the door he sat down on the couch and decided to try to remember what all he'd gotten up to last night.

"Okay," he said to himself, stretching a little and looking around at the mess. From where he sat he could see an odd conglomeration of broken and whole butterbeer and firewhiskey bottles, most empty but a few with some liquid within. Also there were lots of empty pizza boxes from what appeared to be a nearby muggle pizzeria, and lots of feathers strewn about. The lamp on the table next to his couch was missing its shade, which upon closer inspection had a new home atop a stuffed moose head which was now barely attached to the wall. He shuddered looking at it, as it was fairly disturbing with its eternal stare fixed upon him. There also appeared to be, among other things, what he thinks his father would call an "eckeltric model train set", some sort of muggle children's toy. It was snaked over and under the furniture in the room and was chugging away, occasionally giving off a shrill noise. All of this had to have gotten here somehow, but…how?

The last thing he could honestly remember was leaving the store he ran with his twin brother, George Weasley. _I think…I was going out to celebrate something? Well, I certainly did that then. _He chuckled a bit at that thought, glancing at the mess again. "Think, Forge, think," he muttered to get himself back on track. He'd left the shop and on his way out asked Verity something… "Oh yeah! She told us she was going to be getting married!" Thus the celebration, then. He and George were taking her out to celebrate with some of their friends. _So…_he thought, _Where would we have taken her to celebrate?_ "Somewhere a little classier than the Leaky Cauldron then, for such a momentous occasion. After all, she is important to the both of us," he mused to himself, thinking of the possibilities. He seemed to remember lots of loud music, so a dance club maybe? _Ah, yes. I remember now. We took her to Thaumaturgy. Lots of dancing, lots of drinks. Lots of louds music, too. Plenty upscale, lots of wizards of higher standing skulking about._ He blushed a little when he thought of some of the dancing he'd done with George last night, as it was less than G-rated. He could tell there was something there between himself and George, something more than just your usual twins-connected-at-the-hip thing. He didn't try to think about it too hard, though, because let's face it: whatever the hell it was could never become anything more. That would be walking a treacherous boundary between what society accepted and what could get them killed, should someone find out.

He gave his head a good shake to clear those images from his mind. _So we danced. And then…we did what?_ He thought for a moment. Then his stomach growled. He smiled in spite of himself, he definitely had that famous Weasley appetite, even hung over and confused as he was. Perhaps he'd be able to think better if he had some proper food in his system. Wondering a bit if this hotel he was in had room service or anything, he got up and was rummaging through the cabinets and the fridge of the little kitchenette when the bathroom door opened and in came his other half, or as the individual in question liked to joke his "better-looking" half.

"Finally decided to get up, did you mate? Thought you might be dead, you weren't even snoring like usual," George said by way of greeting as he navigated the messy room, nearly losing the towel that was his only covering in the process.

"I do not snore! If either of us does, it would be you anyways," Fred grumbled, the tips of his ears turning red as his mind went back to thoughts of their dancing at the club last night and not even able to come up with a proper comeback as a result. The sight of his twin in just a towel was quite enough to make him unable to properly function, and since he didn't want to let on that he was having these improper thoughts he turned back to his task of searching for food.

"Not quite yourself this morning, are you? Tell me, Forge, what it is that has you so distracted on this fine morning," George said as he finally managed to get over to where Fred was and get his towel re-situated on his hips.

"Nothing. Just a bit hung over is all, Gred. You wouldn't happen to know where a man could find something to eat around here, would you?" Fred asked, nearly smacking his head on the counter when he realized that George was standing right behind him when he backed into him.

"Oh, yeah, I was too. You need a potion or something, mate? Take the edge right off," his brother responded. "And no, I'm not sure, although if you were willing to scrounge about those empty pizza boxes you might could find some leftovers. I'm dead starved as well though." He picked his way back across the room through the mess and to the bathroom, presumably in search of a hangover potion.

Fred sighed a little in relief, in part because George and his precarious towel had exited the room and in part because he had found some cereal in a cabinet somewhere which meant he would not be having to eat some potentially glass-coated pizza for breakfast.

George returned with the potion as Fred was helping himself to a bowl of cereal, setting it down carefully on the table between the two bowls that had been set out. Fred drank it down gratefully and soon was feeling significantly less pain and grouchiness. Unfortunately, even as he finished up the dregs of his cereal he found that he still couldn't remember much of what happened last night, beyond what he'd already recalled. He was a bit embarrassed to ask George, however, afraid that perhaps he'd done something stupid like tried pole dancing or lost all his clothes in a game of strip poker, which could explain why he was wearing just a Speedo still. But when it came down to it, he really needed to know, and he would have to face the embarrassment sooner or later. He cleared his throat and turned to George.

"Hey, uh, George…do you remember what all we got up to last night? I…there are some things I'm a little foggy on," he said, trying not to look directly at George when he told him all about the ridiculous antics he'd gotten up to the night before.

"Well, sure. What don't you remember?" George said, with a bit of an odd tone in his voice and a strained expression on his face.

"Er…from about the time we were at Thaumaturgy on. To be honest, I think I had more than a little too much firewhiskey last night," Fred responded, grinning apologetically.

George's expression grew more strained at this, but he replied anyway. "Oh, sure, yeah, I can tell you what happened. I didn't realize you were having that much to drink. Uh, let's see…well, after we were at the club for a while you and I thought it would be a smashing idea to rent out a hotel room and move the party there. By that point there were quite a lot of people in the party, people you and I know and went to school with and people Verity knows, and probably at least a few people who were party crashers. We ended up here, and someone ordered some pizza. More and more people kept showing up til we were all smashed in here like tinned sardines. I eventually got everyone out and, er, put you there on the couch for the night. Now here we are." There was growing hesitation as he spoke, until he uttered the last two parts as quickly as possible.

_He's hiding something. But what could possibly be so bad that he'd need to keep it from me, his one and only twin?_ Fred thought to himself. "Thanks, mate. But, uh, I feel like you left something out at the end there. If I did something stupid I'm gonna need to know about it so I can figure out how to fix whatever it is," he said to George. George tried not to show the rising panic he was feeling as Fred spoke. He got up from the table with their empty bowls and put them in the sink and cast a self-cleaning spell on them, which they set about doing immediately.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Forge. I told it to you just as it happened. Nothing to hide," he said with his back still turned, facing the sink. The next thing he knows he's been pushed up against the counter by Fred, who is now very much in his face.

"George. Stop. Just…stop lying. I know as well as you know that something happened. The only difference is that you know what and I'm in the dark. And, well…that's just not fair," Fred whispered, honestly very confused by George's keeping a secret from him. They'd never really lied to each other, nothing more than a little white lie every once in a blue moon, but this didn't feel like a white lie. This felt big, like something that could tear them apart.

"Fine. You really want to know what happened? We crossed a line, Fred, that's what happened. After I managed to get the last of the damned partiers out of the room and I was getting ready to just sigh in relief that it was over and we'd had such a fucking fantastic party you snuck up behind me and kissed me. On the mouth. And I just…went with it. It felt right. It felt too damn right to fight back. We kept kissing and touching and I just couldn't stop. It wasn't too much longer and we weren't wearing clothes, still touching and kissing, everywhere, everything. It's like we were just drunk on each other, on the feeling, on the touching. And…we did it. We had sex. And it was good, dammit. But after, when you were out cold on the couch, my mind finally decided to rejoin me and all I could think was how wrong this all was and how we were both going to hell for sure, if not for being gay then for having sex with each other. I thought about what Mum and Dad will say when they find out, what everyone will say. I thought about how much it would hurt you, the things people will say and the way they'll look at us like we're the spawn of Voldemort or something and I just decided I couldn't fucking do that to you. I wouldn't. It occurred to me that you were probably drunk when we did it, and that's why we did it, and I hoped you wouldn't remember a thing. And you didn't. But then you asked me, and I guess I'm a shittier actor than I thought because you just knew that I wasn't telling the truth. That's what happened," George said, bursting into tears about halfway through his story. Then he tried with all his might to push Fred off him, to get away from the tight space he was stuck in.

Fred wouldn't let him go, though. For all that George had shocked him he still had the wherewithal to hold him tight to the counter while his brain processed this new information. _We had sex? But…I always figured I'd remember something like that. So wait…it was good? _His mind was still reeling a few moments later, but he had come to a few conclusions of his own. First, he was touched that George cared like that. Second, yes, this may be forbidden, it may be taboo, but…if it was all that right and good as George said it was, why the hell shouldn't they give it another go? Third, it really wasn't fair that only George could remember this. Fourth, he was going to…just go with it.

George was shocked out of his own tears and tumultuous thoughts by a sudden, tender kiss on his lips, and opened his eyes to see Fred kissing him, his own eyes shut. After all that speech, he was still going for it? Even though they both knew it was wrong? But then all he could do was surrender, as Fred took his kisses along his jaw and around the area where his ear used to be. It was a sensitive area, although for the life of him he couldn't remember telling Fred that. He found himself groping Fred, every bit as wantonly as he had the night before. Fred was doing a fair share of groping George as well, an act made all the easier by their lack of much real clothing.

They broke apart for long enough to cross back over to the couch and make sure no one stepped on the broken glass in the floor, before reconnecting with just as much passion as before. Fred was running his hands over George's muscular bare chest, occasionally pinching his nipples but more than anything enjoying the softness of his brother's skin, as George moaned and shivered. Neither of them really had any words, not now, not when they're both so into the moment, into each other, into the sensation. Fred's left hand wandered ever lower, eventually over the towel George was still barely wearing and the prominent bulge that was there as a result of his actions. George groaned rather loudly, pushing his hips up against Fred's hand for more friction and sensation. Teasing his brother a little more, Fred continued just lightly touching him over the fabric, making him whine a little deep in his throat and remove his own hands from where he had been running them through Fred's hair to try to remove his towel. Fred chuckled lightly until he found himself in the same situation, George squeezing him lightly through his Speedo. He let out a sharp gasp and grabbed George's hand, moving it and getting up to remove the obstructing garment. He then lay back down on top of George, kissing him and torturing him with his slow caresses and teasing touches. After much of this teasing George gasped out, "Fred, I-I can't take this anymore…I need you. Please."

With a small smile Fred allowed his hand to encircle the base of his twin's erection, slowly running it up and down his length a few times. George moaned with pleasure, but said "That-ah-isn't exactly what I meant." Fred shushed him gently with a kiss before inserting one finger inside George's back entrance, making him sigh happily. Continuing to pump his brother's cock, Fred finished getting him ready for him, pushing in another finger, and then another. When he finally deemed George ready, he went to enter him. George stopped him for a moment, holding up a finger to say "wait" and summoned a small bottle of lube from the bathroom. He poured some into his hand and took Fred's cock in his hand, pumping up and down it a few times to make sure he coated it thoroughly before laying back down and spreading his legs as far as he could without falling off the couch.

Fred pushed into him slowly, giving George time to adjust to the feeling. George winced a little on the first few thrusts, but soon both twins were feeling naught but pleasure and friction as Fred moved in and out of George at a fairly slow pace. Fred could feel a little bit of George's pre-cum on his stomach from where the head of his cock was insistently rubbing him, and started upping his pace a little. The new speed allowed for a slightly different angle of thrusting, which in turn was great for George as it allowed Fred to hit his spot with nearly every thrust, bringing him closer and closer to the edge with every movement. Fred didn't feel like he could hold on for much longer himself, and started pumping George's cock as fast as he was thrusting to speed things up a little. With one last deep thrust Fred came, George following almost immediately after him. As they lay there on the couch trying to regain their breath, Fred thought to himself a little bit about what they'd just done. Admittedly, it was wrong. But there was also no denying that that was the most connected he'd ever felt to any other person during sex, and also the best experience he'd ever had in bed.

"Fred..." George started to speak. Fred rolled over to indicate that he was paying attention. "Fred, do you regret what we just did?"

Fred was rather taken aback by the question. "No. I mean…honestly, George, that was amazing. I…I can see myself as wanting to keep doing that, I mean, if you want to as well."

George looked really relieved at that, as he had come to the conclusion himself that he couldn't live the rest of his life without Fred, and was a little afraid that after this Fred would react badly and tell him to get the fuck away from him. He pulled him in to spoon him a little bit and just be close.

"I do have one question though," Fred said, cuddling up to George.

"And what might that be?" George responded, a little bit concerned about what he might be going to ask.

"When the hell did I put on a Speedo last night?" Fred asked, genuinely confused. George just laughed and pulled his twin in closer. That could wait until later.


End file.
